


an end has a start

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Series: last words soulmate au [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Community: HPFT, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, last words soulmate tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: Lily's words had haunted her since she had found out what they were. Usually, last words didn't give many clues as to the circumstances they were said in, but how much ambiguity could there be in "I'll hold him off"?She would be the cause of someone's death and she couldn't bear it.[completely standalone]





	an end has a start

**Author's Note:**

> The only relation this has to the other fics in the series is that they all take place in a world in which people have tattoos of their soulmate's last words on their wrist from birth; otherwise, they're totally unrelated. Thanks to Paula for telling me this should see the light of day and to Madi who gave me the prompt in the first place!

Sharing your words was unthinkable in the wizarding world. Muggles often did it, these days -- a hundred years ago, perhaps, it had been your most closely-guarded secret, but after the First World War customs had changed. Some historians said it was a cultural shift borne of the horrors of the war, a nihilistic reaction to the number of deaths. Others said it was a way to cope with all the loss, to sit with the words that would often be their last: instead of treating it as a secret to be uncomfortably ashamed of, they brought it out into the open and forced everyone else to confront their grief, just as they wanted the whole world to grieve their lost sons and brothers and husbands. 

These days, the people who shared their words -- some people even wore short sleeves -- were usually ones who had generic phrases tattooed on their wrists. _I love you, have a nice day at work, watch out, are you alright?, oh God,_ or sometimes just their own name over and over again.

Lily was relieved to discover the taboo was very much in full force for wizards. No one ever asked what her words were. Wizards had all sorts of ingenious wristguards, ones that never slipped or impeded your movement or felt uncomfortable. 

She could, if she wished, go the rest of her life without ever seeing the words on her wrist again. And she wanted that -- she vowed she would do that -- but she'd had eleven years to memorise them, and eleven years was a long time to memorise four words. _I'll hold him off._

Sometimes she wanted to scratch them off as if that would negate them. Sometimes she vowed never to have a soulmate (even though it wasn't a _choice_ , it was just a fact: she already had a soulmate, they were out there somewhere and there was nothing she could do about it). Sometimes she even vowed to become a nun and join a closed order -- her parents would understand her converting to Catholicism if she explained it was about her soulmark, right? Maybe?

No one could know what would happen after someone's words were said: the person who said the words could die, the person with the words could die, they could be separated on different sides of the Iron Curtain, or even just live three blocks away from each other and live for another fifty years, both too proud to forgive a slight.

No one knew, but there was some measure of context you could assume from the words themselves. It was all well and good for the people who had _I'll be home at seven_ or _goodnight_ or even _I'm sorry_. People died and there was nothing anyone could do about it -- but _I'll hold him off_? Lily's soulmate was going to die trying to protect her, was going to sacrifice themself to save her.

She was going to kill them.

She had already decided before she heard of the wizarding world to never let anyone read her words. If she let anyone read them, it might get back to her soulmate and then they would know and they'd feel _obligation_ to save her and that would be the only thing that could possibly make it all worse.

Her one solace was that soulmates didn't necessarily always stay together happily. That it didn't always end in death. If she just rejected everyone (and soulmate bonds were overwhelmingly romantic ones, although not always) who showed interest in her, then… well, they'd have pretty boring soulmate words, but at least they wouldn't die. Right? 

Wrong. She wasn't sure if there was some kind of predestination or preordination or just some kind of clockwork to the universe, but no one's words had ever been wrong. They always, always happened. And what other context could hers have? When she was younger she would dream up absurd scenarios where she heard the words and nothing bad happened: perhaps they were acting in a play and her soulmate had a heart attack right there on stage. Perhaps they were playing a game and her soulmate would move a piece on the board to hold another player off. 

It didn't work once she got to Hogwarts, though, and knew in her gut that she wouldn't go back to her old world. Once she learnt of the war and how she was part of the group people wanted to destroy -- well, the fanciful scenarios had never seemed terribly likely, but now it seemed guaranteed to end in death.

* * *

She first said no to James Potter because he was being a dickhead.

The second, third, fourth and fifth times were also because he was being a dickhead. She very quickly lost count, honestly -- he just revelled in being the most annoying, obnoxious, relentless pain she had ever encountered.

But then -- but then it was Seventh Year, and they were Heads together, and something had happened over the holidays (the war had become impossible to escape, even for James, and he had realised that he did not want to die being known as a massive turd). He became… bearable, at first. Even when she found she genuinely enjoyed his company so much so that when he asked her out it felt like a reasonable request, she still said no, picturing the words beneath her wrist guard.

She couldn't be responsible for that. She couldn't condemn him to die for her. 

She'd gone to see McGonagall, and she must have looked distressed because McGonagall offered her a biscuit as she struggled to find the words to express her request.

"Is there… Have wizards found a way to change someone's soulmark?"

McGonagall considered her for a moment before sighing. "No, Miss Evans. As far as I am aware -- as far as any of us who isn't an Unspeakable is aware -- we have still not determined exactly how soulmarks work or why they are so powerful. We presume they're magical in nature, but muggles also have them and they seem to act exactly the same for them."

Lily's heart sank and she looked away, blinking back tears. This was her last hope. She was surprised it hadn't occurred to her earlier, honestly, but she'd spent a week debating whether or not to go to McGonagall, tossing up the advantages and disadvantages of having an answer versus having a sliver of hope.

"We know that there is nothing we can do about what is written, however. We cannot change it, we cannot avoid it, and--" Here her voice changed and Lily looked back up, confused at the gentleness in her tone. "--we are not responsible for it. It isn't a prophecy, it's not like any kind of divination we have yet discovered. It is as immutable as the past. Whatever you words say, Miss Evans, it is not a failing of yours. The words on your arm have already happened and will happen in the future. They happened long before you had any decision-making skills."

Lily shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "In the muggle world, people show each other their tattoos. It's not like here, there's not a strong taboo around it -- there used to be, but… anyway, what I mean is that even if you _do_ show your soulmate your tattoo, even if they know what it says, it still happens anyway. You can agree never to say those words, but it's like Sleeping Beauty, a spindle gets into the kingdom somehow and--" She broke off as she remembered that wizards had different fairytales and it was likely that McGonagall would not have that reference point at all. 

"My last words mean that something terrible is going to happen to my soulmate and they're going to do it to save me and I can't live with that kind of guilt."

"You never have to show your soulmate your tattoo," McGonagall began, and when Lily went to interrupt her, she held up her hand. "You don't have to, although it is often customary for spouses to do so in the privacy of their own homes. You don't have to tell your soulmate why. Telling your soulmate does not appear to change the results, you are correct. In your case, I would recommend never telling anyone you suspect may be your soulmate because then you _know_ it will be their choice. You can't be responsible for their act of love."

Lily nodded miserably. She had considered that, but it felt so… lonely to never share it with anyone. She thought of her parents, with their matching _night, love_ and _goodnight_. She thought of the girls at primary school, all comparing tattoos and giggling over what they said about their futures (usually nothing). She thought of the pit in her stomach as she considered her soulmate being _obligated_ to die for her, and she nodded again and left the room.

* * *

Despite everything, despite the war, despite the words on her wrist, despite the absence of her family -- despite all of that, the day she got married was the happiest of Lily's life. For just one day she could forget everything that was outside of this: her white dress which flared out when she spun around in exactly the way she had dreamt it would as a small child; the brightly-coloured bouquet; the way Sirius had pretended to trip and drop the ring on his way up the aisle; Remus accepting a new suit for the occasion (James had remarked it was the first time he'd worn something that genuinely fit him); Mary bawling her eyes out the entire ceremony and gratefully accepting a handkerchief from Peter when she'd soaked through hers. 

There hadn't even been much cleanup, thanks to the rest of the Marauders doing it with a flick of their wands. It was only when they were finally alone, having kicked Sirius out the fourth time he made a particularly lewd comment about what was next on their agenda for the evening, that she remembered. 

Her new wristguard was specially for the wedding, although she thought she might keep it like this: there was a magically-adhered piece of cloth that was charmed to look just like the skin around it with a decorative silver bracelet on top to distract from it. You wouldn't be able to tell she was wearing a guard at all except for the conspicuous lack of words.

As James slowly, reverently, unbuttoned the back of her dress, kissing her neck all the while, her heart sped up and she felt a little ill. They'd had sex before, but... in a few moments James would remove his own wrist guard (a simple white one -- he had been wearing a dress shirt, after all) and ask her to remove hers.

She supposed that she was just extremely lucky that it wasn't some kind of custom for each spouse to remove the other's wrist guard. 

"What's wrong, love?" James stopped kissing her neck and moved so he was facing her. He'd almost finished unbuttoning her dress (two of the lewd remarks Sirius had bestowed them with had been about the sheer number of buttons) and he'd been laughing as they went upstairs about how much he was looking forward to undressing her, but at the smallest sign she wasn't okay he was completely serious and focused on her.

Lily felt like she was going to burst into tears (because of her wrist? Because she was so lucky to have married this man, this impossibly kind and wonderful man? Because she was suddenly exhausted? She wasn't sure) but managed to keep her voice steady as she said, "I don't -- I don't want to show you my mark. I can't."

Emotions flickered across James's face like pictures in a film: confusion, fear, sadness before finally landing on something like acceptance. She opened her mouth to try to justify it (though she had no idea how she would) but he shook his head.

"It's okay, you're okay, you don't have to show me. Is it an always thing, or do you think someday--" He broke off as she shook her head, but instead of looking angry or hurt as she had imagined, he just looked concerned for her. 

He moved slowly, telegraphing his movements so she could move away if she wanted, and leant in and kissed her. "I love you," he said, his hands ghosting over her shoulders, barely discernable through the silk. "I love you even if I never see your soulmark, I promise. I married you, I'm not one to do that lightly."

He couldn't help the grin that broke out as he said 'married', still thrilled by the newness. He'd told her the night before that the thing he was looking forward to most was referring to her as 'my wife'. His giddiness was infectious and Lily smiled too and hugged him, listening to the pulse in his neck thump steadily away. He loved her. He was real and he loved her and he was still here even when she said she would never show him her soulmark.

"Could I still show you mine?" James's voice rumbled through his chest and tickled as it vibrated through her ear. She lifted her head up to look him in the face. "See, I've been looking forward to it, because it's quite funny." 

"Oh?" was all she could manage, not quite imagining how last words could be amusing. 

James picked up his wand from the bedside table to undo his wristguard, which floated off to settle next to the lamp. Presenting the underside of his wrist to her, he said, "See? It says 'no'. Every time you rejected me at school, I just became more convinced you were the one, because only my _real_ soulmate would say no to me."

Lily snorted. "Professor McGonagall said no to you all the time," she said, but she was distracted, tracing the neat, cursive 'no' on his wrist in her handwriting. It was real, incontrovertible proof that they were meant to belong together. It was also real, incontrovertible proof that one day, James would die to save her life, but she had (on her good days) almost accepted this: it helped that she knew now that James would do it without hesitation, that he would do it for Sirius and Remus and Peter as well. 

"Yeah, but I wasn't deluding myself into irrationally hoping that I was meant to be with Minnie," he said, grinning and pressing his forehead to hers. 

"Such a shame it never came true," she said, aiming for airy but ending up a little breathless. They were _married_. James was her husband and they were married!

He did, eventually, get around to unbuttoning the rest of her dress.

* * *

Lily's blood ran cold when the door was blasted open. Even in the split second before James yelled, she knew it was Voldemort -- who else would it be? She was halfway up the stairs, holding Harry, and she couldn't even see James -- he was still in the front room, oh God -- _Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!_

She barely managed a choked, "No!" before she heard Voldemort kill him. She'd left her wand in the kitchen, what could she do? She put Harry in his cot and tried to drag the bookcase against the door (if he'd blasted open the front door, the bookcase wouldn't stop him but she had to feel like she did _something_ , she couldn't just wait for--).

It turned out, in the end, she forgot to feel guilty about the words on her wrist at all. It wasn't like it had made any difference anyway.


End file.
